Family Stories

That's my father, William Hale Lindholm, and his dog, Shep. I have quite a few stories about Dad when he was a boy and living on a chicken farm in Donaldson, Indiana. I also have stories about my maternal grandmother, my Grams, and her childhood in St. Louis living above a Chinese laundry.

I have Aunt Elsie stories, Mom stories....

I wondered why, after I divorced, I got rid of almost all my possessions with the singular exception of boxes of old photographs, letters, a huge old scrapbook of my grandfather Lindholm's (half of which the contents are in Swedish), and odds and ends - momentos - of the lives of my family. Most all of whom have passed over 20 years ago at the least.

I toted those boxes from one place to another for eight years and now, since I've settled, I've the time to sift through them. I've sorted and scanned photos, some of which I swear I'd never seen before. I've read letters I know I'd never read before - had no idea existed and certainly not that I was in possession of them.

And now my genealogical authority marvel of a daughter-in-law has me hooked on searching online through files to put some order to the stories - the connections, the skeletons. My stories are beginning to flesh out in the most remarkable ways to me.

And it hit me - that's why!!

I have been given care of these historical wonders for a very specific purpose. Me - the one who writes! Hah!

Ohhh...now I have plans! First it will be my grandmother's story. I'm already diving into the history of St. Louis and the "Kerry Patch" Irish neighborhood.

I'm excited! Oh, yes. I'm excited.

The Flits

Obviously, I haven't been writing much lately. It's a period of having a myriad of ideas all running through my head without time to give them attention. Flit! And then it's gone. I can't revisit the moment without something else grabbing my attention. Often a dog needing out when I'm home, or a phone ringing and/or someone walking into the office at work.

When I do have "time" I am so exhausted and longing for the flits to go away so I can just "be." I read then, taming my brain into order so that I may later sleep.

I sometimes worry that the flits are my way of being, that focus and writing is not to be mine. But it's a season, I believe. A time of busy-ness that I must undertake.

But I do wish it would end soon. It is exhausting.

Wee Betty

Michelle tagged me to post a baby pic of wee Betty. Here she is at 3 years old. Prissy thing, wasn't she?

Research?

I have long wanted to write something based on my grandmother's (maternal grandmother's) life, as she told it to me. She grew up in St. Louis round the turn of the 20th century. She came from an Irish immigrant family. Her mother died when she was a child - thrown from a streetcar - and she and her two older sisters were farmed out to aunts, as their father was an alcoholic and not able to take care of the girls. My grandmother got the aunt who was, as my grandmother called her, an old harridan. Grams tried running away many times to join her sisters in Chicago, but always got hauled back to Aunt Alice...until she didn't, and made it to Chicago to join her sisters. There she met and married the boy next door, a blacksmith and prize-fighter, my Gramps.

Okay. Good stuff. Lots to base a good story around. I have lots of little Grams-tales to add, too.

But, this takes research. Lots of it.

Now I do love history and that's not the problem, but I keep seeing the "C's" on all my efforts that took research in high school through college. It just wasn't my thing, I guess. I get very impatient with details, you see. I know they are needed, but they frustrate the heck out of me when I'm focused on "the bigger picture."

This may be different, I don't know. I may have "grown up." I also know that once the story is down, lots of the details can be changed and filled out. That's what you do when you write. Slice, dice and edit. I know what that's like. I've done it often enough. I do pay attention to the details there, because it is...well, my passion.

I have something else I've been working on, a fantasy novel. Doesn't mean I couldn't work on them both, does it?

And I did live and work in St. Louis for awhile myself during my former husband's seminary days - across from Forest Park where the 1904 World's Fair took place. I have a sense of St. Louis.

I keep debating with myself - should I or shouldn't I? Would it be a waste of time and another disappointment?

I Am Not Well-balanced

So...physical gotten, fitness evaluated. I'm alive, 59 years old and, due to sitting in front of a computer all day at work, overweight (Yeah, like I didn't know that!), my cholesterol and blood sugar are way too high, and my balance is wonky.

I found myself telling Chris, my fitness trainer (Oh, that does sound impressive, doesn't it?)that I used to be a dancer, like somehow that was going to make my balance return in a *blink* and she'd be so impressed. Good grief! I got home and realized that the last dancing lessons I took were 32 years ago, before I got pregnant with the Critter!

Not that there hasn't been physical activity in the interim. I walked, chased children, worked out at a friend's physical fitness shop with the accurate name Body by You, and I took the occasional Yoga class. But, for the most part, I've been sedentary due to my work choices for the last 15+ years. It takes its toll.

And then there's the fact that I'm post menopause. Ugh. I will not go into the disgusting details of how that effects one's body. But I will mention one observation.

That balance thing. I actually realized I was through the bloody (no pun intended) transition for the first time, because I noticed that my center of gravity had changed. Where the heck was it now? I felt like I'd lost my anchor and was floating six inches off the floor and grasping for the walls. I've been looking for that anchor ever since. Hence, the wonky balance.

Very disconcerting for a stick-in-the-mud Capricorn like me. I have to make sense of things. Be grounded.

I traveled through menopause during the most chaotic period of my life. I was totally and completely uprooted, my life turned upside down and sideways. Very synchronous, I'd say.

But I've set down a few roots again...tentatively and very skeptically...shakily. It's new ground for me, just like being on the other side of this menopause thing. I'm looking for that balance, but it just isn't the same, ya know?

But why should I expect it to be?

I feel like a pioneer looking for that "perfect" piece of land.

Fit for What?

And I thought my doctor would be thrilled I was going to start a fitness program! DOH!

I went to the doc for yet another sinus infection and happened to mention that I was going to be starting a fitness program at the place where I went for physical therapy for my tennis elbow and this wonky neck of mine. I'm thinking she'll be pleased and pat me on the back, yes?

No. Instead she gets all big-eyed and reaches out like she's going to grab my arm! She composes herself and tells me that I have to get a physical before I start because she doesn't want me dropping from a heart attack! Yeeooowwwch! She then goes on to tell me like a soothing mother hen (she's maybe all of 35 and I just had my 59th b'day) that women don't exhibit symptoms like men do and when they take on something like this they can drop from an "episode."

Woof! Talk about feeling old.

Anyhow, I'm getting the physical Monday.

Yes, Mom.

Purrrr...

I was grumbling and annoyed this morning - sinus infection, earache, and what was that Caucus all about anyway? And then I happened on this.

I have no idea what the music is all about (It's obviously Japanese), but the photography is amazing!

I'm smiling. I'm purring. Think I'll go snuggle down with Fox for a nap and let the world go hang for a bit.